


Weathercock

by Tethys_resort



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Courtship, Cousins, Family Issues, Family Reunions, Fluff, Gen, Music, Years of the Trees, fading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25340221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethys_resort/pseuds/Tethys_resort
Summary: The complications of Findekano’s crushes.  And Nelyafinwe spends a lot of time organizing.
Relationships: Aredhel & Celegorm | Turcafinwë, Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo, Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	Weathercock

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings - Fading, tense family relationships
> 
> As always, if you have any questions please just ask.

Nelyafinwe stared at his Uncle Nolofinwe’s mansion. The banners were covered with white clothes and there was a wreath of holly on the door. 

The upper servant who answered the door was wearing undyed clothing. Nelyafinwe stared at the white sheeting covering the statuary, pictures in the hall and the mirror that was usually in a cubby of the entry. “Did someone die?” He hadn’t heard anything, but he had been out of Tirion for months, the family had only gotten in last night in the dark between Trees. 

Wouldn’t a runner have been sent to the Crown Prince if someone in the family had died? 

The servant bowed politely as he was ushered in and whispered, “Lord Findekano has announced he is Fading.”

“What?” The servant shot him a look that plainly stated that his voice was too loud.

He took a breath and tried again. “What? Why is Finno fading?” Findekano had been fine when Nelyafinwe had last seen him. More than fine: he had been industriously crafting the delicate parts of a mechanism whose description changed from moment to moment. So far it had varied from a miniature Eagle of Manwe with wings that flapped as it turned into the wind, to a horse whose legs jogged on vigorously when pulled on a string. The only commonality was their frenetic motion. 

Well, the other commonality is that the oddity was supposed to be a gift for a certain Lady Fingon had seen at one of the Palace parties a few months ago and fallen instantly in love with. 

Nelyafinwe didn’t see the appeal of the female in question: she was giggly. And when Findekano had recited classic poetry of the Crossing she had been both surprised and disinterested. Apparently her House did not memorize the classics. Worst of all from his point of view, she had no craft and no interest in gaining one. 

He had mentioned to Findekano that he didn’t think the Lady would like a work of Craft as a gift. But Finno had been focused. 

“The young Lady of the House of Sintanon has rejected my Lord Findekano’s appeal of everlasting love. She laughed in his face at his gift and told him to become a toymaker rather than a Prince if he was so inclined. But play with his toys out of her presence until he was adult enough to come up with a real gift.” The servant scowled. “The Prince came home and shut himself in his rooms for three weeks before emerging and announcing his Doom the day before yesterday.”

Nelyafinwe had to admit the lady’s response was extraordinarily harsh. Especially since Uncle Nolofinwe had courted Aunt Anaire with cunning little inventions of exactly the same sort. Even now, her favorites from over the years were lined up on her study shelf. 

Nelyafinwe was a little unclear still on why being rejected by the Lady would lead Findekano to fade though. Or why his parents weren’t throwing an incredible fit. And then he remembered: the grand conference at Taniquetil. Aunt Anaire and Uncle Nolofinwe were in Taniquetil. Baby Argon would automatically have gone as well. 

“Prince Nolofinwe and Lady Anaire are currently at Taniquetil, attending King Finwe.” The servant gave him a disapproving look that he ignored. It wasn’t his fault that his father refused to attend such things. 

“Turukano and Irrise?” Turukano might have gone to the conference, he was always interested in diplomacy but he couldn’t imagine Irrise being happy sitting around watching Grandfather Finwe and the other Kings talk. Especially if the talk sometimes seemed to consist of nothing more than King Olwe’s ongoing experiments with the breeding of the funny little, goggle-eyed fish that climbed trees in the gardens of Alqualonde. 

“Prince Turukano went to Taniquetil as well. Lady Irrise left yesterday.” The disapproval was now evident in tone of voice and posture as well. 

“Left?” At the servant’s look, Nelyafinwe moderated his tone. “Where did she go?”

“She did not say.” The servant walked through another grand hallway shrouded in white and knocked at Finno’s door. Raising his voice he said, “Prince Findekano, your cousin, Prince and Heir Nelyafinwe has arrived and craves audience.”

Nelyafinwe thought the titles overdone, but over the last years Atto had become more and more demanding that everyone observe proper respect for himself as Crown Prince, and Nelyafinwe as Heir. Just before the family’s impromptu excursion into the South he had threatened one of the minor lords with banishment for the slight of referring to little Curufinwe as “the baby tinkerer”. 

There was silence from within. And the servant sighed before turning to bow deeply. “I am sorry Prince Nelyafinwe, Prince Findekano is unavailable for audiences right now. Can you please return tomorrow?”

The servant seemed to think he would obediently walk back down the hall. Instead he shouldered past and tried the door. 

Locked. 

As the servant sputtered in protest he snapped the door knob downward. It came off with a crunch, and he stuffed his belt knife through the exposed mechanism. The knife blade would need some time in the forge after this but he slid it back into its sheath and shoved the door open. 

The servant continued to protest from the doorway and Nelyafinwe ignored him as he searched the chambers. The bedroom and bathroom were empty and he yelled, “Finno, are you hiding?”

“Ah, Nelyo!” Findekano sounded surprised and delighted, two emotions Nelyafinwe didn’t associate with Fading. 

He followed the voice into the small cubby that served as Findekano’s study. There were books blocking the door from closing, and the room was full of haphazard piles of paper. Several lost their battle with gravity as Findekano squirmed out to greet him with a hug. “Nelyo! Are you already back from your trip? How was the South? You are just in time!”

“Time for what?” Nelyafinwe honestly couldn’t see that he was just in time for anything except rescuing his cousin from the paperwork piles now slowly collapsing and sliding into rounded mounds. Or, possibly convincing Findekano to bathe and brush his hair. He shook his cousin gently, “Apparently you are Fading?”

“Yes! I am definitely Fading!” Findekano heaved a deep sigh and his shoulders sagged. “The young Lady of the House of Sintanon has set me a challenge. A worthy goal! And I cannot write music. At least not such music as would stir her hardened heart to pity of my love!”

Nelyafinwe reflected that his cousin should really stop attending the plays the petty lords kept writing and producing. And that explained Findekano’s harp, stranded amid the papers. “Are you sure you want this Lady? It sounds as though she already turned you down once.” Personally, he thought Findekano would be better off seeking some female that actually liked him. 

“Please Nelyo! I must come up with a musical piece worthy of my Lady’s love and affection!” Findekano gave him the giant sad eyes. 

Nelyafinwe sighed. 

****

“No. Absolutely not. No impossible way. Whatever it is, is a terrible idea that will only cause mayhem. Remember last time you asked a favor?” Makalaure stood arms crossed and squarely in his doorway so that there was no chance Nelyafinwe could go in without a wrestling match.

Nelyafinwe started again. “Kano, you didn’t even hear what-“

“And the answer is no. It is probably some stupid plot that you and Finno have cooked up again and I’m done after having to show those parts to the Healers last time. No.” 

“Finno just wants a song.”

“No.”

“He’ll owe you a favor.”

“No.” Makalaure went to shut the door in his face and he shoved a foot around the edge. Makalaure immediately stamped on his toes. 

Okay, time for the next weapon in his arsenal: bribery. He leaned in and whispered, “I’ll help you make up an excuse and go with you to Valmar.” 

Makalaure froze and Nelyafinwe pressed his luck. “That’s where you’ve been wanting to go, right? The music school of Valmar to hear the teachers there? And the libraries to study the Vanya music forms?” Especially in the last century, Atto had rejected everything related to the Vanyar. He had shouted about gratitude and honor when Makalaure had tentatively asked to visit several years ago but Nelyafinwe had caught him sneaking out to hear the traveling minstrels several times since. 

Not too special, Makalaure was always going to parks and taverns to hear the traveling minstrels. But under the stern command of Atto, never the Vanyar groups. 

Makalaure grabbed the front of his tunic and dragged him into the room, slamming the door behind him. 

***

It was a good thing Nelyafinwe had such a good bribe ready to hand, because Makalaure was ready to strangle Findekano by the time “that song” was created and rehearsed. If he had needed to bribe Tyelkormo or Carnistir he would have been out of luck for a favor of the magnitude of “create a song for harp that describes the lustrous beauty of the Lady in question”. A song that Findekano could both sing and play on his harp. 

Findekano was pretty good at playing the harp. And was actually an excellent singer. But it was obvious that while he possessed a lot of Power, it wasn’t in any sort of minstrel’s talent. 

It took a week to carry the plan through with daily trips of Nelyafinwe and Makalaure sneaking up a convenient tree, along the garden wall and up the trellis to Findekano’s rooms. 

They were all sprawled across couches in Findekano’s little sitting room when Irrise returned. She crashed through the (still not repaired) door into the suite with Tyelkormo in tow. 

Everyone stared at each other in silence.

Finally, Tyelkormo turned to Irrise and said, “Little Bat, your brother does not look like he is Fading.” He shoved Irrise forward gently so that he could step inside too and shut the door. 

Irrise made a noise like a kettle coming to a boil. 

And Findekano said, “Little sister! We have just been finishing up the most wonderful song! Would you like to hear it?”

Nelyafinwe knew, even before the end of the sentence, that Findekano had chosen the wrong thing to say. Irrise launched herself at him shrieking and smacking. Between blows she yelled, “I. Was. Worried! You wouldn’t. Move. Or eat. And you always. EAT. And-“ She took a deep breath, “And I thought. You would. DIE!”

Findekano curled up under the assault and Tyelkormo started laughing. 

When Irrise ran out of temper she sagged across Findekano’s chest with traces of tears in her eyes. “You wouldn’t move. And you wouldn’t eat and you just lay there. I didn’t know what to do. I thought you would die before I could get to Taniquetil to get Atya and Amya.” She sniffed. 

Nelyafinwe sighed as Tyelkormo fished through his pockets for a handkerchief.

Irrise has followed after Tyelkormo since she was an elfling, sniping at the nickname “Little Bat” he had given her for unending curiosity and for the ears she had finally grown into in the last few years. Of course she would look for her best friend and additional big brother to help rescue one of her actual big brothers. 

Tyelkormo patted Irrise on the head, “Well Finno, now you owe me for making Huan and me abandon our hunting trip to rescue you from yourself.” The smile went wicked and Nelyafinwe internally groaned. “What do I get to keep this a secret from all of our parents?”

“Do you want to go to Valmar?” 

Caught off guard, Tyelkormo stared at him. “Valmar? The place with all the Vanya relatives?” The grin grew. “I am assuming without telling Atto?”

Nelyafinwe nodded, apparently he had managed to catch Tyelkormo’s interest. 

Tyelkormo glanced about the room. “So what song is this that Makalaure has created? And if Finno gets the female, are they both joining us?”

Irrise brightened. “Can I come too?”

“Of course, Little Bat.” As Tyelkormo beamed, Nelyafinwe wondered how large the expedition to Valmar would get before this adventure was over. 

***

Three weeks later Nelyafinwe looked back along his tiny caravan and wondered how the threat of Findekano Fading had turned into a cousin trip. Somehow Carnistir and Turukano had added themselves too. They were riding silently side by side at the tail of the party.

They had been lucky. Not one parent had questioned the excuse of going out with their siblings to explore a little in the crisp air of Autumn. 

Amme had looked at him sharply when he had explained their plans to visit the Pelori, and smiled slightly. Then patted him on the cheek and told him to have fun and remember to say thank you. 

Atto had crowed about the spirit of adventure in his children, and then gone back to working with Curufinwe in the forge. To be fair, when Carnistir had showed up in his room with a sheaf of maps and a bag of funding “in exchange for joining the secret expedition”, Nelyafinwe had whispered the secret to Curufinwe. 

His youngest brother (the same age as Irrise) had simply looked down his nose and commented that, “It would be much easier to get real work done without all of them distracting Atto and him.” 

Nelyafinwe still felt kind of heart sore about that. Atto had been focused on Curufinwe since he had gotten old enough that it was obvious he had inherited some of Atto’s vast talent at inventing and workings. 

Irrise cantered her horse past, whooping in excitement as she stood balanced upon the saddle. Nelyafinwe hoped she didn’t encounter any trees like that. 

She had just disappeared around the wide bend when Tyelkormo on top of Huan (which if you were used to horses was an odd one to watch) sped up enough to pace him on this wide part of the trail. Tyelkormo scanned the sky; Laurelin was fading and the bird calls had changed. The great hound’s feet were silent and Nelyafinwe began to drift back into his own thoughts.

“There’s a good camping spot that we should reach about the time the Light fades entirely. Lord Orome uses it a lot when we come this way.”

Nelyafinwe nodded. A good camping spot was essential with a group this size. They would need enough forage for the horses, space to sleep and water. As they turned north along the Valmar road in a few days they would need Carnistir’s maps to find spots. They have plenty of trip funds, but he was intending to make sure they could stay as long as possible. Findekano was laughing at something Makalaure said and clutching the saddle to keep from pitching off in hilarity. He had quickly and painlessly given up on the Lady when she had grown big eyed and asked to be introduced to Makalaure at the end of the song. Makalaure had been slightly alarmed and plenty irritated at the overexcited shrieking that had accompanied the introduction and quickly excused himself. He had plenty of experience with Noldor ladies chasing after him: his vast Singing talent and rank of “prince” guaranteed that. 

It made Nelyafinwe relieved to be mostly ignored by the Noldor Court and its ladies. 

“Big Brother?” Tyelkormo’s voice was unaccustomedly soft. “Nelyo? There is good trout fishing in the camp.”

Nelyafinwe glanced over at his little brother and Tyelkormo smiled and said, “We can’t all be talented like Curufinwe. But you can organize expeditions better than anyone, including Atto. We’d all follow you anywhere, you know.” Tyelkormo’s face split into a wild grin and he let out a howling shriek that sounded like it probably belonged in Orome’s Hunt. There was an answering howl from the distance and Huan bounced off the trail and up the long grassy slope on a path that would intercept the trail, and Irrise, farther up. 

The horse startled and lurched but recovered as Nelyafinwe patted it’s neck and he glanced back along the train. Makalaure and Findekano were still chatting amiably, but Turukano and Carnistir seemed to have struck up an intense dialogue. Straining his ears it seemed to be about trade imbalances. 

He has maps, a plan and a direction. 

He has funds and carefully researched contacts in Valmar. The House of the Thousand Leaves seems the most logical place to start, but Grandfather Finwe had slipped him an entire list of possibilities. (Come to think of it, he isn’t quite certain how Grandfather had known of their plans. Nelyafinwe had been too relieved that his grandfather was maintaining the secret to question.)

He has made sure his expedition has all the right gear to travel safely and comfortably.

His brothers and his cousins are getting along.

Really, the only thing he can’t plan for (but can predict) is Findekano randomly falling in love with some Vanya female. 

Nelyafinwe turned back to the trail. Trout for dinner sounds nice. 


End file.
